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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146079">it calls to you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zykaben/pseuds/Zykaben'>Zykaben</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Asexual Character, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jonathan is a non-TMA vampire, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Vampire Jon, Werewolf Martin, a bit on Martin's end, because sexy vampire rights</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:49:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zykaben/pseuds/Zykaben</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin's still kinda new to the whole werewolf thing, so he can't quite say exactly why he's feeling so restless. All he knows is that he wants Jon back as soon as possible and that Jon smelling like another werewolf is unacceptable. Jon is <i>his</i>.</p><p>(Jon wasn't expecting to be aggressively cuddled the moment he stepped through the door, but he's more than happy to roll with the punches.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>520</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it calls to you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts">Prim_the_Amazing</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is for Prim_the_Amazing who wanted some newly-turned-werewolf Martin getting possessive and territorial over Jon. Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy it.</p><p>Also huge thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/">Bloodsbane</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ostentenacity/">Ostentenacity</a> for beta reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martin still wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole werewolf thing.</p><p>It definitely wasn’t the <em> worst </em> from what he could tell so far. It was just that, well, it was a bit inconvenient, wasn’t it? Getting turned into a wolf every full moon? What if he had something important that needed done, something he couldn’t do without opposable thumbs?</p><p>When he’d asked Daisy about that last bit she had tried <em>very </em>hard to keep a straight face. Her voice had been thick with repressed laughter as she told him that he’d just have to plan around it.</p><p>Martin didn’t blame her for her amusement. It was a rather silly question, but at the time it had seemed perfectly reasonable in his panicked state. And really, he had been fully justified in having a bit of a panic; it wasn’t every day that someone got turned into a werewolf.</p><p>Oh, sure, Martin had known <em> about </em> werewolves. It was hard <em> not </em> to when he was dating a vampire, especially when said vampire’s best friend was a werewolf. Sure, Jon and Daisy hadn’t ever talked in-depth about the ins and outs of being a werewolf in front of Martin, but Jon had flat-out <em>told </em> Martin that Daisy was a werewolf when he first introduced the two of them to each other.</p><p>Martin had always been a little intimidated by Daisy, what with her… general <em>everything, </em> but now he—well, he still was intimidated by her. But he was rather thankful to her now, maybe even fond. She had been, and continued to be, a huge help to Martin through the adjustment period.</p><p>It was still so <em> new. </em> Martin had only gone through one full moon like this so far. It hadn’t been awful, not like some of the movies made it out to be. There hadn’t been any cracking bones or agonized screams to accompany the transformation. Calling the process pleasant would be a stretch—Martin didn’t think that he would ever be able to get over the feeling of his bones bending and shifting around—but it didn’t hurt. It was just… uncomfortable. He had felt distinctly uncomfortable for about ten seconds and then bam, he was an eight-foot-tall wolf beast.</p><p>Daisy had told him what to expect, of course, but Martin didn’t think any amount of preparation could truly prepare someone for their first transformation. His mind had remained his own, just as Daisy had said it would, but his thoughts had taken on a wild edge. Like he was still <em> himself </em> but more… well, more animalistic.</p><p>Jon hadn’t been there for it, though not for lack of wanting to be. Daisy had insisted on it, explaining that new werewolves were especially prone to giving in to their more feral impulses and that even if the chance of Martin succumbing to some baser instinct was low, it wasn’t zero.</p><p>Of course, Jon had pointed out that he was very capable of defending himself, being a vampire and all, but both he and Martin knew that Daisy wouldn’t be budging on the matter.</p><p>Now though, with Martin’s second transformation only a scant four days away, he wondered if Jon would be allowed to come this time. Jon had yet to see what Martin looked like as a wolf (though “wolf” wasn’t strictly accurate, even if it was close) and Martin couldn’t help but wonder what Jon would think of him. Would Jon like the color of Martin’s fur? Yeah, probably, given that Jon had confessed to quite liking Martin’s hair not too long ago. Maybe he would balk at the size of Martin’s claws? No, decidedly not, considering Daisy’s were far larger. Would Jon maybe want to try and cuddle? While Martin looked like a monster?</p><p>Martin hoped so. He <em> really </em> wanted to hold Jon like that. Or before then. Preferably <em> now. </em></p><p>But no, Jon was out with Daisy for their regular Friday night drinks. “Drinks” was something of a misnomer, since the two of them usually just sipped on water while eating whatever food they’d bought. It was cute to think about.</p><p>Well, it was cute most times. Right now it just added to the restless feeling that had been churning through Martin ever since Jon had left about—Martin checked the clock on his phone, 8:01pm—three hours and seventeen minutes ago.</p><p>He just had to calm down. He turned up the volume on his headphones until the white noise blasting into his ears threatened to damage his hearing. He laid back, closed his eyes, and took in a long, deep breath.</p><p>A slow exhale, deep inhale.</p><p>Slow exhale, deep—</p><p>Nope, this wasn’t working. Martin didn’t know what he’d expected.</p><p>For some reason, he couldn’t get himself to settle. His whole body felt like a live wire, energy and nerves rushing through it. He had tried to write some poetry, to read, to watch the telly, to sit. No matter what or how he attempted to calm down, Martin would inevitably find himself pacing through the flat. His steps were rushed, bordering on frantic and falling heavily against the floor. He kept giving in to the compulsive urge to look out the windows, all while trying to not bite his nails down to the quick.</p><p>Martin flung himself back down onto the couch for the—seventh? Eighth? Maybe ninth time this evening. He threw his arm over his eyes and forced himself to stop tensing up every muscle in his body.</p><p><em> Jon will be back soon, </em> Martin told himself. <em> Just a few more minutes and then Jon will be back. </em></p><p>Martin took out his phone to check the time. 8:03pm. He could have <em> sworn </em> that more time had passed than that. How was it possible for two minutes to feel like two <em>hours</em>? </p><p>Okay, no, it was all fine. He’d just have to tough it out. Let the minutes fly by. Try to relax a bit.</p><p>Yeah, like <em>that </em>was going to happen any time soon.</p><p>Martin let out a groan. Why was he so on edge?</p><p>Even knowing it was unreasonable, Martin couldn’t bring himself to stop this strange, impatient routine as the seconds crawled by at a snail’s pace. It was during one of his once-a-minute checks out the window that something finally happened.</p><p>Jon and Daisy were walking. Towards the apartment complex. Together.</p><p>Martin’s breathing quickened, the air rushing down his throat and burning in his lungs. He curled and uncurled his fingers as he took in the sight of them, pressing his forehead against the window, his breath fogging the glass.</p><p>Martin waited until the point of pain before blinking, his eyes fixed on Jon. Was he standing closer to Daisy than normal? Some part of Martin knew that it was a silly, errant thought, but another far greater part of him had Martin tensing. His body ached with the need to grab Jon and pull him close, to pull him <em> away </em> from Daisy.</p><p>Martin watched, an eternity passing with each step that Jon took. He stretched his body upward, keeping his sight on Jon and Daisy for as long as possible before they disappeared under the bottom sill of the window, too close to the building for Martin to see them from this angle.</p><p>Every part of Martin was on fire, burning and choking him, screaming out for him to throw the door open, to race down the stairs, to pull Jon against him, to growl and snarl and claw at Daisy until she ran off. She was strong and scary but that didn’t matter, not as much as her being close to Jon, her being near to him when Martin <em> wasn’t, </em> when Martin couldn’t even <em> see </em> Jon, couldn’t see what was <em> Martin’s. </em></p><p>Martin stepped back from the window, breathing so hard that he was panting, fingernails digging into his palms. Were they longer than before? No, that didn’t matter. Jon was so <em> close </em> but out of sight and with Daisy and Martin needed to hurry because—</p><p>Because <em>why? </em> Why did this feel like a matter of life and death if there was <em>no reason? </em></p><p>Something was wrong but Martin couldn’t even begin to think of <em> what, </em> his mind little more than a torrent of half-formed thoughts.</p><p>He swallowed, took another step back. His teeth were grit and his hands were shaking.</p><p>Soon. Jon would be here soon.</p><p>Martin forced himself to move at a slow pace, stalking towards the front door. He would just meet Jon on the stairs. He would see Jon, take his hand, hold him close, press his face against him, <em> smell </em> him, drag him back up—</p><p>Martin froze, halfway to the door, at the sound of something from out in the hall. It took a moment for him to recognize the metallic rattling for what it was, the sound of someone taking out keys and pushing one of them into the lock. Martin tensed up, ready to spring at the <em> intruder, </em> but no, the only other person who had the keys to the flat was Jon. And he had just come inside, so it must be <em> him. </em></p><p>The handle turned and the door swung open, the squeak of the hinges grating against Martin’s ears. Martin’s breath caught in his throat as Jon stepped through the threshold, closing the door behind him.</p><p>A sense of <em> rightness </em> clicked into place. Jon was back. Jon was <em> home. </em> Jon was—</p><p>Jon was staring at him. “Martin? Are you alright?”</p><p>Something in Martin <em> snapped. </em></p><p>He rushed towards Jon like a storm, ignoring the sound of surprise Jon made as Martin pushed into his space, crowded him. Jon was so much <em> smaller </em> than him, Martin’s hands covering slim hips as he pressed Jon back against the door. One of his hands worked its way up and into Jon’s hair, fingers carding through greyed, silky strands. Martin tugged at it, gentle but firm, until Jon’s head fell to the side. He looked beautiful like this, looking up at Martin with pretty brown eyes, the points of his canines just visible from between his parted lips. Martin wanted to take in his visage forever, but the fierce desire to press <em> closer </em> was thrumming through his veins and he didn’t even think about resisting. He ducked his head down and shoved his face into the crook of Jon’s neck and <em> inhaled. </em></p><p>The familiar scent of <em> Jon </em> overtook him; the sweet musk of old books and paper and ink, the coppery tang of blood, the faintest hints of something fresh and soft from the oil he used for his hair. It would have been intoxicating if not for the other smells that clung to Jon. Something that smelled like earth and steel and sweat—<em>Daisy. </em></p><p>How <em> dare </em> she—Jon was <em> his. </em> He was <em> Martin’s </em> and no one else’s.</p><p>Martin growled into Jon’s skin, tightening his grip and forcing himself closer closer <em> closer. </em> Jon let out a small, sweet noise, something like a whimper or a sigh, and arched his back, pressing that much further into Martin. Martin took in a shaky breath, the hand he had on Jon’s hip sliding up and under the hem of Jon’s shirt before coming to rest against the small of Jon’s back, fingers splayed out and palm against cool skin.</p><p>Martin took in another deep breath, the same smells filling his nose. He needed to get rid of Daisy’s scent—having another wolf’s scent on Jon was <em> wrong </em> in a way that made Martin want to bite and claw and <em> rend. </em> That could come later, though. For now… </p><p>Martin pulled his fingers from Jon’s hair and repositioned his hands, Jon giving a small, curious hum at the movement. The sound quickly turned into a squeak as Martin picked him up off the ground, one arm supporting Jon’s legs and the other his back. Usually, such an action took some amount of effort on Martin’s part, but right now Jon was as light as a feather. Martin felt as though he could carry Jon for however long he wanted.</p><p>That wasn’t too important though. Not when they didn’t have far to go.</p><p>The journey through the flat was a blur, all streaks of color and Jon’s body against his and Jon’s scent filling the air. In no time at all, Martin was pushing open the door to their bedroom open with his shoulder and gracelessly dropped Jon onto the mattress. Jon let out a grunt at the impact. He didn’t move to get back up.</p><p>Martin felt a warm rumble building in his chest at the sight of Jon laid out against the sheets of their bed, Jon’s hair disheveled and face flushed. Martin had never seen anything so perfect before in his life.</p><p>A sound bubbled out of Martin’s throat, content and possessive. He clambered onto the bed and on top of Jon, lowering himself until they were chest-to-chest and he was pressing Jon further into the mattress.</p><p>“W-wait.”</p><p>Martin stopped breathing at Jon’s voice. Every instinct, every nerve ending, <em> everything </em> in him was demanding that he press further down, cover Jon completely, to <em> stay. </em> But…</p><p>But.</p><p>Martin let out a high whine and pushed himself up and off of Jon. He hadn’t moved far, still crouched over Jon, but it was enough that Jon could easily wiggle out. Could <em> leave </em> if he wanted to.</p><p>Jon smiled up at him and Martin couldn’t read the nuances of it, not like he normally could, but the sight of it made his heart pound and his face burn. He leaned helplessly into the hand that Jon delicately placed against his flaming cheek.</p><p>“One moment,” Jon said, voice soft and tender. He made to sit up and Martin obliged, sliding back to rest on his haunches to give Jon more space.</p><p>Another whimper escaped Martin as Jon began unbuttoning his jacket. Martin could only watch, spellbound, as Jon undid the last button before shrugging his jacket off and onto the floor. The shirt Jon was wearing underneath had short sleeves, exposing the rich brown skin of Jon’s arms.</p><p>“There we are,” Jon declared. He shifted a bit, then held his arms open. “Come on then.”</p><p>Martin didn’t hesitate to throw his arms around Jon and crush him back down against the bed, Jon’s breathy laughter ringing in his ears.</p><p>Daisy’s scent wasn’t gone, not completely, but it was <em> less, </em> something that Martin may not have been able to place if he hadn’t known what it was beforehand. Now it just smelled like the two of them, like him and <em> Jon. </em></p><p>Martin could have laid there on top of Jon for ages, simply taking in his scent and the feeling of him in Martin’s arms. It was warm and soft and comfortable and <em> right </em> and—</p><p>And… maybe a touch strange?</p><p>Martin only realized he’d opened his eyes when he blinked them open again. Jon was running a hand through Martin’s hair, petting him. Reluctant as Martin was to have that stop, he still pulled away. Jon’s hand fell back down onto the mattress.</p><p>“Jon?”</p><p>“Ah, your head’s somewhat clearer now, I’m presuming.”</p><p>He wasn’t wrong; the feelings of <em> need </em> and <em> mine </em> that had consumed him were rapidly dissipating. “I—yeah, it is. What, what <em> was </em> that?”</p><p>“Nothing to worry about,” Jon waved him off. “It’s to be expected, really. With how close it is to the full moon and all.”</p><p>Suddenly everything was lining up in Martin’s mind with perfect clarity. “Oh god, was that a <em> werewolf </em> thing?”</p><p>“… Did you think it wasn’t?”</p><p>“Yes! No! Maybe? I don’t know, I just—” Martin gestured vaguely as himself. “I didn’t know <em> what </em> was happening. I was getting impatient waiting for you to come home and then I saw you with Daisy and I just… I lost it a bit.”</p><p>Jon was already nodding along. “That’s hardly unusual. Werewolves are known for having some rather possessive instincts. It’s no surprise that you’d feel uneasy with your… <em> mate, </em> so to speak, around another wolf.”</p><p>Martin’s hands came to cover his face with a groan. “<em> Christ. </em> I’m, I am so <em> sorry.</em>”</p><p>Long, slender fingers wrapped around Martin’s hands and gingerly pulled them away. Jon’s face greeted him, a fond, crooked smile playing on his lips. “Nothing to apologize for. You cuddled me a bit more aggressively than usual; it wasn’t <em>bad</em>.”</p><p>“But I just forced you to—”</p><p>“Hardly,” Jon interrupted. “The moment I expressed the slightest amount of hesitation, you pulled back. Besides, it’s not as though I’m defenseless.”</p><p>Martin had already opened his mouth to protest, but he stopped as Jon’s eyes flashed red and his grip on Martin’s hands tightened. Martin glanced off to the side. “Right… right. Still.”</p><p>“You’re <em> fine, </em> Martin,” Jon insisted, cupping one of Martin’s cheeks and turning his head back to face Jon. “Truly. It’s, ah, rather flattering actually.”</p><p>Martin let out a small huff of laughter. “Sap.”</p><p>“For you?” Jon asked. He leaned up, lips brushing against Martin’s in a warm, chaste kiss. “Always. Though, ah, can’t say I’ve ever had a lover who’s been quite so… <em> territorial </em> before—”</p><p>“Oh <em> hush, </em> you,” Martin said. And really, what better way to shut Jon up and wipe the grin off his face than to kiss the man silly?</p><p>So, yeah, being a werewolf was new and more than a bit scary, but Martin wasn’t afraid of his future. Not while he knew Jon would be by his side every step of the way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading. Please be sure to kudo, bookmark, and leave a comment if you enjoyed this fic!</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://zykaben.tumblr.com">here on tumblr.</a> Feel free to hit me up there!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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